Nakba #57 - The song that cost her son 6 months in jail

Samia Nasir Khury recounts: “In 1993, during the First Intifada, my son produced a song and had it copied onto cassette tapes. I paid for the copying, and he borrowed my car to deliver the cassettes. ‘I’ll be back after lunch,’ he said. But he did not return. He was arrested by the police and taken in for interrogation at the Moscobiyeh detention center in al-Quds (Jerusalem). He was accused of distributing music that glorified the Intifada. The prosecutor repeated a line from the cassette — ‘The voice of the Intifada is stronger than the occupation’ — in order to incite the judge so that my son would receive a harsher sentence. He was imprisoned for six months. First he was held in Ayalon Prison in al-Ramla. He went through hell there. We were allowed to visit him, but I was not allowed to touch him; he sat behind a wire mesh. Later he was transferred to Prison Six, outside Atlit. It was an open prison, and there we were allowed to sit across from him at a table. We never got the cassettes or the car back. My son’s lawyer gave one cassette to my husband. After his death, we found it in his safe. The time in prison made my son more enthusiastic and determined than before. He continues to make music.” The lyrics that cost him six months in jail: My life and my honor are the most precious, and from the blood that has been shed, the voice of the Intifada is louder than the occupation. The voice of the Intifada is high and will not be silenced; nothing can mute this voice except for the sake of precious justice. Who longs for death? The goal is not the death of human beings; the goal is love of the homeland. A people that has struggled for a long time seeks independence. We went down to the streets with stones in our hands. We rose like whirlwinds, our flame blazing like fire. With our chests we face the bullets; we resolved upon liberation. Justice must reach the criminal and the occupier. Our people’s rights are denied, yet they do not sleep on their rights. The principles of the enemy are empty, its essence does not endure. O world, look at us: camp, village, and city. Look at the Palestinian army— flowers and lion cubs. They want to storm our village; we stayed awake all night to defend our dignity, no matter how long the night. The massive army advanced, a mountain armed with fire. We filled the road with stones and set the tires ablaze. From the mosque loudspeakers we called out to the people. The awake roused the sleeper, telling him: take up the axe. We spread out along the fronts, revolutionaries skilled in maneuver. And the Zionist, however powerful, kneels before children. من حياتي شرفي أغلى، ومن دمي اللي سال صوت الإنتفاضة أعلى من الإحتلال صوت الإنتفاضة عالي، وما بيخرس هالصوت غير لأجل الحق الغالي، مين بيهوى الموت مش هدف موت الإنسان، الغاية حب الأوطان شعب يناضل من زمان، بدو الإستقلال نزلنا على الشوارع، وبأيدينا حجار هبينا مثل الزوابع، لهلبنا كالنار بالصدر نصد الرصاص، صممنا على الخلاص لازم ينول القصاص المجرم والمحتل شعبنا حقوقه مهضومة، وعن حقه ما ينام مبادئ خصمه معدومة، عنصره ما دام يا كل الدنيا شوفيني، مخيم قرية ومدينة شوفي الجيش الفلسطيني، زهرات وأشبال بدهم يقتحموا قريتنا، سهرنا طول الليل ت ندافع عن كرامتنا، مهما الليل طويل أقبل الجيش الجرّار، جبل مسلح بالنار ملّينا الطريق حجار، وولعنا العجال من سمّاعات الجوامع نادينا عالناس والغافي نبهه السامع، قللو إحمل فاس وتوزعنا عالمحاور، ثوار بنعرف نناور والصهيوني إله خاطر، يركع للأطفال